


A-Tisket, A-Tasket

by tinsnip



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: ... sort of, And Lots of It, Cunnilingus, Dildos, Established Relationship, Genderbending, Genderplay, Happy Anniversary!, M/M, On BOTH SIDES, Oral Sex, PWP, Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Vibrators, because Garak can only handle so much, plot what plot?, pretty much just 'good old-fashioned fucking', voracious sexual appetites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-27 02:52:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1712309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinsnip/pseuds/tinsnip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As proof positive that I will very happily write anything (and enjoy it!) if asked nicely and promised chocolate, I give you this:</p><p>Cosmetic surgery is clearly very easy in the Federation. Easy enough that one can become a Klingon with almost no prep time. Or give Quark a cisfemale body and hormones to match. And heck, if it's that easy, and if you've always been curious about how the other half lives but you don't really want to change the rest of your body... why not just switch genitals?</p><p>Happy anniversary, Elim Garak! Julian has a surprise for you!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cosmictuesdays](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=cosmictuesdays).



> For reference re: my Cardassian anatomical setup, see [here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1719479)  
> Other terms will be translated in hovertext.  
> If something's not making sense, let me know!

Garak knew something was off from the moment he walked in. From there, it only remained to determine exactly what it was and how he needed to deal with it.

 _Well, that's fine._ That was what he did best, after all…

It was somewhat strange to slip into his analytical mode in his own quarters. He usually felt safe in his quarters… but then again, this didn't feel unsafe, exactly. It was simply… different.

Breaking the environment down into its component parts helped somewhat. _Analysis first, Elim._ Just as trained.

First: the air tasted of Human, as it always did on this station; this was, however, much less oppressive than it had once been, because—

Second: "Hello, love!" came the carol from the other room, and he smiled to himself, and then smiled wider as—

Third: Julian Bashir, chief medical officer of Deep Space Nine and man entrusted with the lives of everyone on the station, relentlessly competent, quick-witted and charming, came strolling into the room wrapped only in blue Kraussian silk—

Third-and-a-half: and didn't he look marvellous! Garak had been right: the blue set off his skin delightfully, not to mention the way it made his eyes look darker. But back to analysis of said Julian Bashir—

Fourth: because something was very subtly off about the way he was walking.

"Hello, my dear," he said without thinking much about it, analyzing Julian's gait. Something… hurt? No, there was no pain in his expression or in his movements, nothing to give away a vulnerable spot… "You look lovely. What's the occasion?"

"Can't a man greet his beloved dressed only in silk?"

"Of course he can. But you usually don't."

Julian smiled, nodding: _point._ "Not usually. But all the rules change on one's anniversary."

 _What?_ His mind raced, tallying back… it didn't make sense. "I'm sorry… but I don't think it is our anniversary." And that was a concern—that incisive mind, that perfect memory, beginning to slip?

But no, Julian was laughing. "Not of our official relationship, no."

"Ah?"

"But it _is_ the anniversary of our very first dinner in my quarters…"

Oh. _Oh._ "I see."

"I thought such a momentous occasion deserved celebrating."

Julian smiled, smugly anticipatory; meanwhile Garak remembered, half-wanting to wince. It had been such an awkward fumble… still, he'd managed, and Julian had managed, and managing had been extremely pleasant once they'd figured out a few basics. Yes… yes, very pleasant, and absolutely worth celebrating, and so he opened his arms, wrapped his beloved in them, pressed him close, and processed frantically.

There was this about Kraussian silk: it clung to every iceksamlan of skin. It left absolutely nothing to the imagination. On Julian, it usually delineated all kinds of hidden shapes; the peak of a hip here, a nipple (charming!) there…

And something was definitely… not delineated.

_Have I lost my mind?_

But Julian's muscles were tense under his hands, and when Garak pulled away, his smile was nervous.

 _Gently, Elim. Confessions flow better when eased free._ "Is there something you'd like to tell me, my dear?"

Julian laughed, ran a hand through his hair, blinked. "I may have gotten you a present."

"Did you…?"

"Um… Hell. How… Do you know, it's all so easy until… Never mind. Happy anniversary!"

And he dropped his robe, and Garak stared—

"Doctor Bashir, what have you _done?"_

Nothing. Nothing at all. Where Julian's pretty prUt usually rested, nested cozily in fur; where his purse dangled, inviting tickling fingers, there was _nothing_ _…_

Wait. Not nothing. Something…

His gaze rose to meet Julian's. Apparently his expression was everything Julian had hoped for, because the grin that greeted him was, quite frankly, brilliant.

"Ta-da!"

"I beg your pardon?"

The grin slumped slightly. "Sorry. It means… more or less, it means 'look at what I've done!'"

"I don't think I could look away. What _have_ you done?"

"Nothing permanent, don't worry. Just a bit of remodelling." Julian looked down, apparently quite pleased with what he saw, and patted the mysterious tuft of dark fur possessively. "It's just until Monday rolls 'round."

"But… _why?"_

"Because it'll be fun!" Julian bounced on his toes, gleeful amidst spilled silk, and nothing at all bounced with him. "It's a bit of a done thing these days to try out another gender's setup. Do you know, even Miles had a go, back on the Enterprise—"

"Please stop talking." He was astounded enough without having to imagine the stocky Chief of Operations in any state of undress, let alone with modifications. "Let me process for a moment."

"Um." Less bouncing. "Don't you like it?"

His mind was racing. _What is the etiquette for this kind of situation?_ Quite simply, there wasn't any, but Julian's eyes were now distressingly downcast. It wouldn't do. _Manners, Elim!_ And the easiest way to fix it seemed to be to fall back on the first lesson any lover ever learned:

"It looks lovely on you, my dear."

Up came those pretty eyes, matched by a flattered grin. "Really?"

"Certainly." _Why not?_ It was all more or less the same, wasn't it? _Alien is alien._

"Thanks. I think it suits me rather well, actually." And now he was—yes, he was going to do a pirouette, _incredible._ But as he watched Julian perform his little spin, he found himself smiling.

Julian stopped, tilted his head, tipped his grin sideways… and yes, here it was, drawn out and clockwork-predictable: "So…?"

He echoed his tone: "So?"

"Well, come on…" Another semi-bashful grin. "Should we try it out?"

Astounding. The man was astounding.

"Is that really going to be your attempt at seduction?"

The grin drooped. "I'm sorry?"

"Really, my dear." Mild affront seemed the best way of proceeding. "No dinner? No drinks? Pure carnality?"

"Oh, I've got both dinner and drinks set up." Back came the smile, and Garak did _not_ melt under it, not at all. "But I've been waiting here very patiently for quite some time now, and I really rather think I'd like you to go ahead and open your present first."

"Did you prepare that line to be used ahead of time?"

"Yes, actually. Thought it up while on the table. Semna thought it was pretty funny."

 _Oh, mercies!_ "You're discussed this with your _colleagues?"_

"Of course I have!" Julian had now wrapped his arms around Garak's shoulders and was chuckling at him from not at all far away, absolutely convinced he was the funniest thing in four quadrants. "Couldn't exactly do the installation myself, could I? But they were delighted to help—found it rather intriguing, I think—Rij'll be up next if she has anything to say about it—"

"They _all_ know?"

"Oh, what do you care?" There was a low laugh against his jaw; despite himself, he angled his chin to savour the warmth. "You love being the centre of scurrilous rumour."

"Not usually this scurrilous."

"Nonsense." Oh, a kiss. "I remember back before we got all tangled up together…" Another. "One week you were a spy, the next an assassin, the third the most famous lover in the Alpha Quadrant…"

"I never heard that one." Were those little kisses really leaving a trail? So warm… Without quite willing it, his hands found their way to Julian's hips, thumbs stroking against sharp hipbones.

"I thought you'd started it." Sharp teeth now—really, Julian was sharp all over—and those teeth were nibbling at his chin between words. Damn the man for learning so quickly.

"I'm sorry to let you down."

"Oh, no fear; once I'd convinced you to take up with me I found out it was true." Which might have been flattering, if perhaps a bit much, if Julian hadn't immediately begun to snicker.

He tightened his hands on those slim hips, felt Julian's happy sigh and sway.

"Am I convincing you now, darling?" Julian's voice was low and breathy; he probably thought it was very seductive. _And I am pathetically suggestible, because he's right._

"Perhaps. I may require further explanation."

"Oh?"

"A whole new set of genitalia is the sort of thing that could daunt any lover, don't you think?"

"Fair, fair… shall I take you into the bedroom and walk you through it?"

Too easy. It was never good to make things too easy for Julian. He did so like to chase. "I think here will do just fine."

"What, standing here at the door?"

"The sofa seems convenient."

And so it was, and Julian, shameless as always, sprawled out to display himself to best advantage. Garak was instructed to sit on the floor—"tailor-seat, ha! That means cross-legged"—and to pay close attention. Amused by the sparkle in Julian's eye, he did his best to play eager student, _because you're enjoying this just a bit too much, my dear_ _…_

"I designed it all, of course."

It looked complicated and delicate… and yes, his Julian was of course a skillful artist in the surgery, even if he could be astoundingly tone-deaf in more sartorial situations. "Clearly you've put a great deal of work into it."

"Oh, yes. More than a few evenings."

"Working late?"

"Well, when you're at the shop…"

This was surreal… and yet quite charming. He leaned closer. "May I touch?"

"I'm rather hoping you will." Julian wriggled his hips, and Garak fixed him with a quelling look.

"None of that."

"Oh, none at all?"

"Perhaps later. Perhaps. At this moment I find myself much more concerned with how this pretty thing works." He extended a curious finger, stroked lightly along one of the furred lips (not failing to note Julian's small sound). "Is it like an ajan?"

"Mmm, yes… but not exactly." Julian made a considering noise. "Less protective, certainly."

"Your species is remarkably flawed in that department." Unless the fur was intended as protection. Really… why bother?

"I didn't design it."

"You designed this one."

"Yes, but authenticity was rather my aim here. It hardly makes sense to build myself the perfect set of genitals… although, you know…"

That tone of voice held nothing but trouble. He held up a hand. "No. Please. Don't."

"I promise nothing," said his downfall, eyes dancing, "but for now we'll stick to this."

"Not literally, I hope."

"Ha! No, no, it's not sticky. Slippery, rather. It's self-lubricating, much like an ajan. Requires a bit more priming, though."

"Ah?"

"Mmm. The interior is always nicely moist, but it's not ready for sex at any time."

"Neither is an ajan."

"You know what I mean, though. With Cardassians it's loosened scutes and swelling. With Humans it's… well, it's secretions and swelling, I suppose."

"Go on." Now he let his finger slip from the furry lips to the smaller naked pair, peeping out from between their larger sisters. "Why two sets of lips?"

"You've got me. That's just factory standard."

"And what swells, exactly?"

"Most of it, to varying degrees. Gets pinkish if you're doing your job properly." One long finger angled down to point out landmarks. "And it lubricates from in here, and from just here… really, I'm very well taken care of."

Dark and deep and very like an ajan. A floral ajan. So strange. "Fascinating…"

"If you're interested, I urinate out of here."

"I admit I did wonder, although I don't think we need to discuss it in any more detail at this moment."

"Are you sure? It's a very interesting sensation—"

"Quite sure, thank you."

"If you say so." A shrug, and the moving finger, having poked, moved on. "And up _here_ we have a lovely organ—"

"Oh!" It was so small! "May I touch it?"

"Can't see why not; you've had a go at everything else."

So delicate. He stroked it once. He would have liked to have stroked it more than once, but once was all he was permitted, as Julian made a sound something like _yeek_ and very nearly clamped his legs shut on Garak's hand.

"I do apologize—are you all right?"

"My God, I didn't realize how sensitive that was. Oh, God. Sorry, Palis. Sorry, Brit." One of his hands was hovering protectively over that dangerous little nub. "Perhaps just go easy there."

So much to keep track of. Inside, outside, functional, decorative. Names would help. "And what am I to call this delightful assembly?"

"Well, that astonishingly sensitive little fellow is the clitoris, and this set of lips is the labia majora, and these are the labia minora, and this is the vagina… what?"

So unmusical. So clinical. "Are these the terms you'd use in bed, my dear?"

That won him a rueful grin. "No, I don't think so."

Garak smiled up at his favourite Human, lazy-sprawled on their sofa in charmingly-displayed disarray. "Tell me what you'd like me to call them."

He was treated to the sight of Julian Bashir, briefly speechless.

"I… do you know, I'm not sure. There are a lot of terms to choose from…"

"Go on," he said invitingly, and then briefly regretted it as he nearly drowned under the deluge—

"Wait, stop, stop—cat?"

"I've always liked that one."

He'd seen a cat. It had been pleasantly territorial. It did not in any way seem related to what lay between Julian's legs. "Hmm."

More terms. Some oddly mechanical. "Protruding rim?"

Julian blinked at him. "What?"

"That last one."

"Huh. Do you know, I don't think that translates well."

When Julian finally ran down, Garak sat, thoughtful.

"Having a hard time choosing, are we?" Julian's voice was amused.

"It's not that, my dear. It's simply that I am now beginning to understand Humanity's reputation."

"Our reputation?"

"Indeed. As the most sex-obsessed species in the Alpha Quadrant."

"Oh, we are not."

"Name another species with that many words for genitalia."

"Hmm," said Julian, with pleasure in his voice. "Well, I suppose there are worse things to be known for."

"And you'll mate with anything. You as a species, I mean."

"I really can't argue with either interpretation. I'm trying rather hard to mate with you, for instance."

"Patience, my dear. You'll make me feel tawdry."

"Not at all. You're my favourite. I don't sprawl myself out like this for just anyone."

"Not anymore."

"Tsk. Be nice, and pick a name."

He wanted to. He did. But… "Nothing seems to fit, my dear," and he looked up at Julian apologetically. "I'm certain they're all charming words—"

"—not all, but we'll leave it—"

"—but nothing seems quite right."

It was too charming, this pretty little furred thing. Too cunningly designed, too well-woven to be summed up as a cat or a fruit or something out of a machine shop. He stroked it again, saw how Julian's thighs eased open, smiled to himself.

Julian's smile was uncertain. "Should I pick something?"

"No, no, my dear." He let his fingers trace gently over and around, learning the shapes, the contours. "Just tell me more about this creation of yours. I'm certain the proper name will spring to mind."

The sight of Julian frowning down at his own genitals was something to tuck away.

"I'm not really certain what else there is to tell."

"Did you build it personally? Or can one select from a template?"

"Oh, this is all me." There was a slightly worrying amount of pride in his grin. "And do you know, it's one hundred percent actual Julian Bashir. Or perhaps Juliet, right? Because if I'd turned out XX, this is exactly what I would have been sporting."

"I'm sorry?"

"Chromosomal designates. XX usually gives one a female, XY a male, although of course there are many variations… I think Cardassians are similar there, aren't you?"

"I believe so. It's not exactly my field."

"So all I had to do was culture up some tissue, switch _this_ to _that,_ and…"

The words flowed over him. They were unstoppable. None of them seemed particularly relevant, and a great deal of the information being imparted was far beyond his scope. That was fine; that gave him time to ponder, to assess…

He dropped his jaw, sipped air, smiled, and yes… that was what he'd scented. Just a faint waft of warm skin, bare beneath silk… _Delicious._

_Hmm. I think I like this pretty thing._

What could it do? For that matter, what could _he_ do?

Curious, he moistened a fingertip and ran it just so…

"—sort of medium, I mean, it's not always—oh… Um. At any rate, we replicated—"

That was interesting. And now if he used both hands, if one stroked while the other gently dipped…

"—three trials, but—God! That's—oh, that's—yes, that's nice… where was I? Oh… something about growth trials…"

A laudable result. And now, perhaps, if he dipped his head forward, if he opened his mouth and let the flat of his tongue stroke _here—_

 _"God!_ Oh, God, never mind about the bloody trials, do that again!"

The hand on the back of his neck urged him on, and Garak found himself suddenly immersed in scientific discovery.


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh, God, please, please, I _need_ it," moaned his lover, spread wide beneath him, and Garak found himself in the incredibly frustrating position of being unable to oblige.

"It won't fit!"

"Try again—push harder—"

But prUt and furred pseudo-ajan seemed a poor match, and Julian's trembling, thrusting hips did nothing to further the cause of interspecies coition.

"Hold still. Hold _still."_

"I can't. Oh, God, I'm going to go out of my _mind!"_

Garak felt quite ready to join him. Half an hour of sampling that delicious concoction, easing Julian through two downpours, and then—unfair, unfair—to find out that the genitalia of a Human female were designed to become _more_ sensitive, _more_ demanding with repeated use… to want nothing more than to satisfy his lover, and to be stymied by _this?_

He growled frustration; Julian matched him. His look was beseeching. "Try again. Once more. I'll be still. Please try?"

So tempting! So very tempting! "I wish I could—but I don't want to hurt you. Or myself."

"Aargh," said Julian, saying it for both of them, and thumped a balled fist on the mattress. "There's got to be a way."

"I'm certain that there is, but rampant thrusting doesn't seem to be it."

"What about more lubricant?"

"We've already gone through half a bottle."

"God damn it. It works the other way—why can't we put it where it _ought_ to go? You and your stupid fat-bottomed Cardassian cock—"

"I'll take that as a compliment." Although he did have something of a point, didn't he… Garak's frustrated mind seized hold, analyzed, remembered—

"I think we need to try another approach."

Julian's face lifted, hope in his eyes. "What else is there?"

"Perhaps we're moving too fast."

"But—but look, I'm wet as can be, I'm—God, I'm just incredibly ready—"

"Of course, my dear, there's no doubt of that," said Garak, hands and mouth both flavoured with evidence of same, "but perhaps we need to take our time."

"I don't _want_ to. I want to _fuck."_

"Perhaps that's the trouble. Look at you."

Taut from head to toe, trembling with lust; at any other time, Garak would stop and take a holo, but right at the moment a furiously-aroused Julian Bashir was not what either of them needed.

"Oh, God. Fine. Fine." Julian rubbed his face with frustrated hands; when he let them drop, his face was set. "Tell me what you want to do."

It wasn't what he wanted to do. It was what was necessary. "We are going to go very, very slowly."

"You're _joking—"_

"Please…"

"All right… all right…"

Slow. Slow and easy. First the tip, easy enough; Julian was slick-wet and quiveringly ready for him. He didn't even have to pinch the tip. _Luxury._ Soft and easy, wet skin against wet skin…

But Julian was shaking under him. "More, please, God—"

"Patience…"

"Hold me down."

"I'm sorry?"

"Hold me down or I'll—just hold me still—"

And so he leaned an arm against Julian's collarbone, pressed him back against the mattress, supported himself with the other as he directed the slow slide—

"There, yes, more—oh, God, hold me down—"

Wider and wider, _mercies,_ it seemed the pretty thing could stretch after all… ah, and there was the trouble. One of the little lips wanted to catch and rub. He lifted his arm—

"No! No, don't—"

"Only for a moment, my dear—"

—there, he had it, and now he could push harder—

"Oh, God! _Oh!"_

—harder and faster and now he was _in,_ all of him tucked deep inside his lover, who moaned and pulsed around him—

—who _pulsed around him?_

"Julian!"

"—uhhh?"

"You're… throbbing!"

"Of course I am… God, I just want to—"

"No—no, my dear, don't move, you'll shake me loose—"

Julian vented a near-howl of frustration, wrapped his arms around Garak and all of him _squeezed—_

_"us'cut'net!"_

That seemed to yank Julian back into himself for a second. His squinted eyes opened; from an iceksamlan away, he laughed a short, breathy laugh.

"Language, Garak…"

"Cardassians can't do _that."_

"What… this?" And again that grip, tight and almost painful. _Who is holding who?_

"Gently—you're very strong!"

"Am I? That's nice… I remember Palis used to grab me hard, God, that was—"

Tight! Too tight! _"Don't!"_ He lifted himself, tugging away from arms and ajan, not wanting to but— _mercies, this is a dangerous business!_

Julian looked up at him, uncomfortably arched up and away. His eyes were wide.

"Did that hurt?"

"It certainly wasn't very comfortable!"

"Sorry, I… huh. I keep forgetting… God, you're really not _anything_ like I am, are you."

"Ajans don't _squeeze."_ He looked down at his poor prUt, blinked, frowned. "I'm going to have a bruise."

"You're joking."

"Yes." _Probably._

"Come back? I won't do it again—not that hard, anyway—I promise—"

But Garak was already moving, already sliding in again, slow and steady. He felt Julian tense against him, then consciously relax… ah, yes, there, deep and warm…

Julian made a low, inarticulate sound and pressed up against him, thighs wide, bony hips bonier than usual: _right in the belly, thank you, my dear_ _…_ still, it didn't seem to matter when they could fit together like this, eyes closed and locked together, with him dipped in as far as he could go… he could lie like this forever—

"Garak."

"Yes, my dear…?" His eyes opened lazily, took in Julian's expression, and it was _absolutely_ not appropriate to laugh at the desperation on his face.

"If you don't start moving soon, I'm going to explode right out of my skin."

Ah. Yes. Yes, that sounded very, very good. "By all means." He shifted, trying to slip his legs under Julian's own, to hook his ankles—

"No—no, not like that!"

Garak stared, confused.

"Human style, all right? For me? Just this once?" An earnest smile was paired with a thrumming voice. There was no way to refuse. _Not that I want to_ _…_

"I'm all the way in… I'll have to pull out. Just a bit… relax…"

Julian moaned low and long as Garak moved inside him. "God _damn_ it—"

"Gently, my dear…"

"Hold me down again… please, or I'll… yes, keep me down…"

And yes, this time it was easier still; something about the way he pinned Julian down seemed to open him up, seemed to make all his long sharp edges soften. He moved gently, steadily.

"Yes, yes…"

"You're bottomless, my dear… don't you ever end?"

"Just a bit deeper than an ajan… goes with the varying biology… oh, God, that's…"

Another sliding thrust, ending with a jolt, and Julian quivered head to toe, mouth falling open.

"Ah…"

Another, another, chuva bumping against his softness, and with every smack of flesh against flesh, Julian's body jumped—

 _"God!_ Oh, God, I…"

Slow and easy, slow and hard, a long wordless time, filled only with soft noises and wet whispers and the harshness of Julian's jolted breaths until his eyes, half-open, rolled to white; until he made a sound that seemed to drip from him, flowing low, and with softness all through him, he found his release, and Garak breathed with him, rode the pulsing of his body, gentler now.

Time passed, measured in breath and Julian's occasional quivering aftershock, and Garak was pleased to wait, pleased to rest, everted into warmth and tightly held. _How strong he is_ _…_

When Julian finally spoke, his voice was muzzy, half-drunk. "You didn't finish…"

Oh. He hadn't, had he. It almost didn't seem to matter. "Don't worry about it, my dear."

"No, no good… you've been spoiling me…"

"It's my pleasure, I promise you."

"Might be mine too, you know…" And Julian moved beneath him, sudden strength against strength, and looked up at him with slightly glazed eyes and a languorous smile. "Come on, love… another first?"

He couldn't be suggesting… "I'm not sure that's safe, my dear."

"Safe as houses. Humans, remember? A place for everything and everything in its place…"

And that was very likely why they were the most sex-obsessed species in the quadrant: because they had it so _easy._ Still, that did give a pitiable Cardassian xenophile the occasional rare opportunity…

"Mmm," said Julian, mouth full, and then later as Garak gasped beside him like a fish on land, "do you know, I think all that pirrentep I've been eating has paid off."

"You're… joking."

"Not at all."

Between breaths, he laughed. "I thought you… couldn't tolerate pirrentep…"

Julian leaned over, smiled down at him, shrugged. "A bout of reflux now and then is a small price to pay. I taste _delicious._ " He licked his lips, grinned happily. "Worth it, wouldn't you say?"

When he had his breath back, he very likely would.

 


	3. Chapter 3

There'd been talk of dinner.

It had been only talk.

Now, instead of the flavour of Andorian redbat, or the spice of a Vulcan soup, Garak instead had a mouthful of urgent, moaning young man. Perhaps not surprisingly, his hunger had abated immediately when Julian had kissed him, had pulled him on to the bed, had laughed full-throated as Garak let his jaw ridges scrape just a trifle on their way down his body…

Mmm, an amorous Julian Bashir was much better than dinner... and now, with this little "vacation" truly underway, stimulating said Julian Bashir in precisely the right fashion was a pleasant challenge. Julian had been on to something, indeed; Garak regretted ever having doubted him. 

Of course, there was nothing wrong with his standard equipment, aside from its being impractical and excessively ornamental. Garak was developing rather a fondness for his overlarge prUt. That said, there was certainly something to be said for how easy, how simple it was to do  _this—_

"Oh! Oh, God!"

—and have such a minute motion of the tip of his tongue be rewarded by immediate, twitching response.

His hands rested on Julian's thighs, easing his legs open, stroking gently; his fingers felt every minute spasm of muscle as he gently lapped at the pretty treat he'd coaxed from its little hood. Not hard, he couldn't be too forceful, or—

 _"Ah—_ gentle, gentle—"

—he'd be redirected by Julian's hand in his hair, squeezing tight, tugging. Not with intent to injure. Probably. Although with the state Julian was in, he could very possibly do more damage than he'd intended. Mindful of this, Garak kept his movements slow, his tongue-strokes long, his kisses wet, and for this he was well rewarded. More so than he'd expected, in fact.

First of all, there was the sound of him—

"I—uh, just—yes, up— _yes—"_

—as Garak worked at him, coaxed sound from him, took away his ability to speak in anything other than little whimpers and entreaties and the occasional sharp shout. It was remarkably fun to turn Dr. Julian Bashir, CMO of Deep Space Nine, clever and precise, into a tight-arched, claw-fingered creature of  _need._ It was a challenge.

Julian enjoyed sex so very much, and had so few inhibitions or taboos where that subject was concerned, that he treated it as just another pleasant activity. Like racquetball. Or darts. Or, possibly, lunch. Garak had found it was tricky to find any way to keep him from babbling on before, during, and after the act. Not that Garak minded, much; still, there were times when a well-bred individual should recognize the need to shut his mouth and do his duty, and when their relationship had been new, Garak had despaired of ever finding a way to convince the doctor of this… until he'd found the little spot near the tip of his prUt that could be tickled just  _so_  with a quick tongue. That had shut the doctor up very quickly indeed, more or less, and how delightful to find that this miracle could be replicated on a completely different set of pretty parts by simply switching from flickering tongue-tip to soft, slow strokes, relentless and strong, that made Julian's thighs strain against his hands, made his long back arch, made him groan out sounds that bore no resemblance at all to the usual tone of his voice—

 _"Oh—_ ah, ah, oh, yes,  _yes, now—"_

—and here was the other lovely reward: the so'c'am of him at this moment, when his body shook and every muscle danced. Oh, it was always good, very good, but this was… to press himself into such a secret place, to feel soft fur against his face and warm skin against his lips…

 _More,_ said his mind greedily, and so Garak lapped at him without cease; he rode the urgency of Julian's voice, the ecstasy of his cries as he pressed himself up against Garak's mouth, as his hand clenched tight in Garak's hair, grinding Garak's face into the tuft of dark curls that decorated him. Yes, yes… faintly acidic, mildly sweet… like a desert plain when water fell… or, perhaps, Garak thought wryly to himself as Julian bucked, bumping Garak's nose, like an unexpected deluge, irrepressible and not at all gentle. Such an indefinable flavour…

And now as Julian gasped for air, as his hand relaxed and his thighs fell loosely open, Garak permitted himself an indulgence: he slid his tongue down, away from the plump pinkness of the little nub, down the valley to the fascinating not-quite-ajan. Drenched indeed. He dipped his tongue and tasted, sipped moist air, gloried in it.

He heard a faint, gasping chuckle, and smiled to himself.

"Haven't you had enough?" Julian's voice was a trifle weak.

"I could ask the same of you. This is three times now, you realize, not counting just before dinner." Julian should be reminded how greedy he was being, truly. Not that it was at all objectionable. It was simply the principle of the thing.

"I'm not certain I'll ever get enough of this. Oh, my God. You're incredible with your mouth. I hope I'm half as good at it as you are."

Really, the young man had no sense at all. "I do hope your skills in that area aren't currently relevant."

Another wheezing laugh. "Not at the moment, no. Although the way I treat your chuva isn't that dissimilar, really…"

"Hmmm." That was worth thinking about. "I may have to experiment with that technique…"

"Not right now! Not right now, God, I'd die!" Suddenly the hand on the back of his head was tugging firmly up, and Garak allowed himself to be coaxed out of his pleasant little lair, upon which Julian's thighs clamped shut.

"You needn't be so restrictive. I promise not to do anything you don't want me to do." He sat back on his haunches, licking his lips.  _Delightful._

"That's the problem. You're far too good at talking me into things I should know better than to do." Julian blinked at him with wide-pupilled eyes, smiling. "I don't think I ought to entrust you with my wellbeing."

"Oh, come now."

"Can't. Physically cannot. Not for at least another half an hour. And that's that." He stretched his legs out and hooked them together at the ankles. 

"How astonishing. Have we actually found your limit?"

"Who knew?" Julian grinned. "One _can_ have too much of a good thing. I declare the amusement park gates closed." He wriggled his toes.

Garak allowed himself a disappointed sigh. "A pity. I'm sure I could have found further entertainment…"

"Come back during business hours and you can have the run of the place. But for now," and Julian stretched, "do you know, I actually really could do with a bit of dinner. For real, this time. Hard work, this!" He slid his legs over to the edge of the bed, hopped down, turned, and when he extended a hand he was laughing: "Care to join me? Or are you full?"

 _Do I smile or do I bite him?_ If it wasn't one appetite, it was another. There was no satisfying Julian Bashir. And dinner did sound good...

Still, the taste of him still lingered in Garak's mouth, on his lips…

"Perhaps just a small snack, my dear. I don't want to spoil my palate for dessert."

 


	4. Chapter 4

"Come on, love," said Julian, legs wide and smile wider, and Garak could honestly have rolled his eyes.

Four times. Four times in the last six hours. This was something to be proud of, for goodness' sake. Really, he ought to be awarded some kind of trophy for his achievement.

Instead, his reward was an insatiable lover who didn't seem to realize when he'd been well and truly taken care of.

"Aren't you done yet?"

"Not remotely. Give again, please."

"I don't think I can." His poor abused prUt had tucked itself recalcitrantly away within him; he tried, in the spirit of experiment, and could not produce even a twitch. "My apologies."

Julian pursed his lips, disappointed.

"I could use my mouth…?"

"Mmm… no, I don't think so… don't take it the wrong way, it's just…" Julian blinked at him, smiled. "I'm really rather interested in exploring being _filled."_

"You've been filled before. Must I remind you...?"

"Yes, certainly, and you're going to fill me many more times and I'm going to love it, but this is… being filled _this_ way is a really different kind of sensation. I'm hard-pressed to describe it. I mean," as he groped for words, "I designed it all, I drew out the plans for innervation, I know exactly what's inside me, and yet…"

"There's a difference between knowing a route and walking it yourself."

"Exactly. _Exactly._ That's well-put. Did you come up with that?"

"It's from TufIt's _Histories."_

"I don't think you've lent me that one."

"I'd be pleased to. Should I get it now?"

"Don't try to distract me. I'm not at all in a reading kind of mood."

"Clearly."

"Although, you know…" Suddenly Julian's smile had a dangerous kind of tilt. "Funny you should mention that analogy…"

"Is it?" This was going to be interesting.

"I've thought about that general idea rather a lot, you know. What with this little project."

"Have you?"

"I've always wondered… well, here—hold on," and with that Julian slid from the bed, leaving Garak curious. He sat waiting, enjoying the view as Julian moved to a low dresser, knelt, pulled open a small drawer—

"What have you got there, my dear?"

"You'll see." With an air of pride, Julian sat down next to Garak, bumped his shoulder conspiratorially, and opened the box he'd retrieved to reveal—

_Oh, mercies._

"You've made yourself an ot'tassi." Laughter seemed inappropriate, but he couldn't help but smile, and Julian grinned, watching him.

"I suppose so, if that's what one calls a dildo in Kardasi."

"I think ot'tassi sounds much more dignified."

"Call it what you like; you'll be the one using it."

"Is that so." He lifted it from its box. It was softplas, made up in that neutral shade of ubiquitous Federation grey, and appeared to be designed after a Human template…

A very familiar template. _Unless they all look exactly the same. And I somehow doubt it._

"Julian Bashir, did you really design this after yourself?"

No denial. No blush. Instead a wide grin. "What better model?"

"You are incorrigible." Now he did laugh. "You really believe yourself the pinnacle of Human perfection."

"Not at all, not at all. Perhaps slightly ahead of the curve, that's all."

He ignored that. "Then why this?"

"Like you said," and Julian leaned back, spread his legs slightly, brows raised, "haven't you ever wondered how it feels to be on the receiving end? Tell me, what better opportunity am I ever going to have?"

Hmm. That was… a fascinating consideration, actually. "You may have something there, my dear."

"Damned straight I do. It's right here. I direct your attention thither."

Well, then. "Are you ready for this, love?"

"More than. Come on, please?" Julian wriggled a bit, legs spread much wider now, and Garak was, quite simply, delighted.

"Very well… here you are…"

There was a brief moment of worry. He knew it was ridiculous; still, the head was so much bigger than that of a proper prUt. He moved gently, took his time, and all worry dropped away as Julian gasped, flexed his thighs, grinned in delight.

"Oh—that's _nice!"_

"You sound surprised."

"It's just—it's very different, isn't it!"

That went without saying. Such unwieldy, overlong things, these Human prUts... but Julian didn't seem to mind; was, in fact, doing his level best to impale himself further.

"Ready for more?"

"Very. Very, very ready—oh… oh, it's long, isn't it…"

So it wasn't all in his imagination, then. "Longer than I am, certainly. Are you long for a Human?"

"Not overmuch… maybe a bit more than average, but not much… oh, that's full, that fills me right up… not very thick, though, is it?"

That made him smile. "I may have spoiled you there."

"I rather think so. Hmm. Does feel nice to be full… slide it in and out a bit…"

"Like this?"

"Oooh. Ooh. Oh, that's… oh, that's nice. It's… mmm. It's very nice." Laziness laced through his voice, and Julian sprawled himself gently backwards over the bed, closing his eyes. Garak smiled, watching him, moving slowly. "You can take your time with this. Don't rush…"

"Is there anything special I should be doing?"

Eyes still closed, Julian smiled. "Not at all… mmm… just keep going, I'm… oh, I'm enjoying that…"

"Let me know if I should slow down. I don't want to cut things short."

"Hmm?" Julian's eyes opened, mild confusion in them, then sudden comprehension—and then, irritatingly, amusement. "Oh, don't worry. I don't think you're going to finish me off this way."

Well, that wasn't encouraging. "I'm not? Am I doing it incorrectly?"

"Not at all—and look, I don't mind. I just… mmm, just like that feeling of being nice and full. Mmm. Oh, I could just lie back and let you do this for hours…"

That would not do. Not at all. If for no other reason than because Garak's arm was getting tired.

"I really would prefer to completely satisfy you, my dear."

"Ah…?" Julian lifted his head, his smile dreamy. "You would, would you?"

"Given the option. What do I need to do?"

"Oh, nothing more than the usual… there's no magic trick or anything… lots of happy tissue, certainly, everything swells up nicely, and it all... oh, it all lubricates itself very well... God, that's just gorgeous..."

 _Thump_ went Julian's head back against the mattress, which was flattering, but also frustrating. "And if I'd like you to find release? Where is your vit?"

"Haven't got one… just my clitoris…"

"But that's on the outside."

"Mmm… a bit faster, please?"

Garak obliged, frowning. "That strikes me as poor design. I feel sorry for your females."

"…we work around it…"

"How, exactly?"

"Mmm… you could… oh, I mean, you've got a free hand, haven't you? And the poor little thing isn't getting much attention at all…"

As simple as that. "Easily fixed—"

_"Oh!"_

"That sounded good…" And suggested that he wouldn't be pressed into the role of bottle-corker for the entirety of the foreseeable future, _excellent._

"God—oh, yes… Oh, that's very, very nice… A bit harder…? Yes, yes—oh, yes, oh, that's... _oh..._ "

Well, the foreseeable future didn't have to end all that quickly. "Are you sure you don't want me to slow down?"

"No, no, no, it's just perfect, it's lovely, oh, God," and Julian arched his back against the bed, eyes pressed shut, smile wide, wriggling his shoulders, his hips, "it's the best, very very good, _oh,_ I did a good job when I built this…"

Ridiculous young man. Clever and pretty and absolutely ridiculous. "Which 'this' are you talking about?"

"All of it, I'm a genius—oh, hey, don't stop!"

Such fun to tease. "You're becoming insufferable."

"I'm sorry. I apologize." Bucking his hips the whole time, the little wanton. Garak allowed himself to be mollified.

"Very well."

Suddenly Julian's grin was almost feral. "Now thrust it into me. Hard. No, _hard—ouch!"_

Garak blinked in surprise, which changed swiftly to concern as Julian yanked himself half-off the ot'tassi and stared down in betrayed disbelief.

"I'm very sorry, my dear—"

"No, no, not your fault, I thought—oh, that didn't feel good at all!" He rubbed his belly absently, frowning, and Garak withdrew the untrustworthy ot'tassi before it could cause any more trouble.

"It didn't seem as if it would, but you did insist…"

"Leeta liked it that way. Really hard. Felt good on my end and she certainly seemed happy about it…"

Garak shrugged. "Well, she is of a different species."

"Humans and Bajorans aren't all that different, though… Ow."

"Perhaps the two of you simply have differing tastes."

"Certainly seems that way." His legs were scissoring slowly, but the frown had faded, with a much more familiar curiosity replacing it. Garak suppressed a smile.

"Are you all right? We can stop if you like."

Yes, there was the grin he'd expected. "Are you _joking?_ Not a chance. Get back in there, you."

What a charming creature Julian could be… almost vicious, in his own way… "Ask nicely."

"Please, Garak." That sharp-toothed grin widened in happy anticipation. "Please, darling. Please take that ot-thing and push it into me and make me go absolutely—oh, yes, oh… and then again with your—oh, God, all right, you could do that instead—"

Really, the tongue did seem the most reliable way of getting things done. He let his now-free hand rest on Julian's lovely hip, kept the other moving, hummed softly as he worked.

"God, that's—yes, that's perfect—oh, and then—yes, just keep thrusting it into me, deep, yes—oh, I can feel—"

Hmm. Too much talking. Garak switched rhythms, let his tongue circle the swollen nub at the tip of Julian's lips even as he let the ot'tassi slip deep, slide back, delve down deep again…

"Ah! Ah, I—ah! Oh!"

That was better. Less instruction. More helpless writhing. Pretty little prey, with no possible escape…

"Oh—Garak, I—oh, God! I'm—oh, my God, I'm coming, oh, _oh, don't stop!"_

There wasn't a chance of that, was there… not when such enticing sounds were bursting from him, not when he was hot and wet and tasted sweet as pirrentep, not when Garak was exploring the fascinating depths of him over and over again…

This was, he suddenly realized, no longer an academic concern.

Julian was lazy now, still moving slowly against the ot'tassi; very well, Garak could do the work—

"My dear—"

"Oh, God… Hey, don't—oh—oh, I see—"

"May I?" Because he needed—

"Please do—yes, yes—" as Garak slid into him, easily this time, so easily because Julian was wet and wide and waiting, thrust once into him Human-style just to see what happened and was rewarded with bucked hips and eyes squeezed shut—

"God, it's fireworks, it's just… oh, God…"

—but Julian's pleasure was no longer his concern, Julian had _had_ his fun; now it was Garak's turn to move in him and thrusting wouldn't do, not when Julian was this loose, this wet, but if he—yes, if he reached with one hand and pressed those furry lips around himself, if he held them tight as he moved, then they would rub against his irllun and that, that was very likely going to, yes, that was, _oh,_ it was—

_"Ah—"_

—sudden, bursting downpour, and he clenched his hand tight and rubbed himself against and into, dug his fingertips into Julian's flesh, was squeezed tight even as he filled his lover, even as the rain beat down, even as his body flooded with feeling and he pressed his eyes shut and rode the deluge to its swirling end.

When the clouds cleared, he was lying heavily atop Julian, his shaky legs still loosely propping him up, but the rest of him heavy and warm against soft skin. Julian was playing with his hair, running his fingers over his aural ridges. _Mmm_ _…_ and he was still warm, still everted into a space all his own, wet and hot and really very delightful…

 _One more minute_ _…?_

No, apparently it wasn't to be; his prUt, overworked beyond belief, decided on its own to slip from Julian (occasioning a sigh, a smile, an upward press of hips) and hide itself away. He was left pressing ajan to… ajan, he supposed… but it didn't seem right, it really didn't…

"I must name this pretty little gift of yours..."

Julian chuckled, stomach bouncing beneath Garak's chest. "Is that what we're going to talk about post-coitally?"

"Unless you have a better idea."

"Oh, no, fine by me… are you sure you don't want any help at all with naming it?"

Mercies, he was warm. Warm and soft, voice humming in his chest, vibrating against Garak's cheek... _My delight, my decadent delight..._ "You did say it was my present. I think I should have the final say on what it's called."

"Fair enough. Any decisions yet?"

Ideas flitted through his mind, vanishing as soon as they'd flashed their wings. He was too lazy to chase them. "As soon as I choose something, you'll be informed."

Another chuckle, and a stroke of long fingers down his jaw. "I await your pleasure, Garak."

"Just as I like you. Finally, you're learning."

Ouch. Long fingers could pinch as well as stroke.


	5. Chapter 5

He stood at the foot of the bed, smiling, and allowed himself a moment of pure aesthetic appreciation.

The composition had taken some work, and the subject himself had kicked up a bit of a fuss at some of the practicalities of posed art, but all in all…

_Yes. Worthwhile, I think._

Before him was spread a remarkable canvas. His own lovely, clever, completely powerless doctor was spread out long and exposed, arms crossed neatly beneath the pillows under his head, every bit of him naked and easily accessible for… oh… anything Garak cared to do, really. The contemplation was the best part.

"What shall I do with you, my dear?"

It was more of an idle musing than a true question. This was probably for the best, seeing as how Julian hadn't been particularly verbal for at least twenty minutes now.

_That, in itself, is my true triumph._

He'd wondered sometimes, watching Julian witter on about some thing or other that had caught his attention, what he'd be like without words. Could he be as charming? So much of what made him enjoyable to Garak was in his language, after all.

What a silly thought. Ignorant, in fact. And elitist. And any time he found himself thinking that way in future, all he'd have to do was remember what lay before him now:

Julian lay on the bed, body working, rubbing himself against what Garak had slipped inside him, v'v'er in both new territory and well-explored ground, both singing softly to his skin, and he sang along with them—

_Oh,_ the sound of him—

But no, no, the pleasure in this was in the waiting, the watching. Julian's eyelids fluttered, he twitched, his thighs clenched, his ankles were hooked over each other and his hips rocked as he worked the fore-v'v'er within himself, filling himself, and his song was pure escalating unending lust…

Not yet. Not yet, but still, there was no harm in coming closer…

He knelt on the bed, straddled Julian's straining thighs, his full-bloom prUt twitching as if it could somehow evert itself even further.

"Should I do something more with you, love?"

Julian's only replies were a choked moan, a fluttering of eyelids, a spasm of shoulders.

"Should I do something with this?"

He pressed gently on the rounded tip of the v'v'er and felt Julian push back against him, that low moan suddenly spiking high—

"Ah… no, no, not yet…" So tempting. But no. "I think I want to watch you a bit more, first…"

And Julian was helpless against him. That was the best part: he was helpless of his own volition. _Hold me down,_ he'd said smilingly, _hold me down again,_ and Garak had smiled back and said _No._

Stubborn, so stubborn; he'd shoved his hands under the pillows and rested his head on them and said _I won't move, no matter what you do, I won't move_ and now, now Garak was showing him how foolish it was to make such promises…

The best part was that Julian wouldn't beg. Too proud. He wouldn't give in and he wouldn't plead; instead, he'd just lie there and let Garak _do_ to him, would let Garak pinch here and watch the hardening, slide his tongue there and feel how he shook at the sensation, rest his teeth just _here_ and hear the catch of breath—

He caught himself matching it, a quick quivering inhalation, and the taste of Julian on the drifting air was—no. No. Self-control was the game, and it was so very rewarding to be the winner…

Still, Julian's endurance was surprising him. He'd been very careful with his touches, with his careful positionings. Both v'v'er sang and trembled in such a way that they'd please his sweet catch without bringing the rain. No matter how Julian angled himself, no matter how he rubbed and writhed, without his hands he couldn't quite touch what he wanted where he wanted it—

And the pretty thing was too stubborn to use his hands!

"Poor thing. Can't you reach? Do you want some help?"

For the first time in long minutes, he saw Julian flash awareness. Those drooped eyelids lifted for just a moment, just long enough for lovely eyes to dart him a glance of pure fury.

He laughed. He couldn't help it. He was sinuous with pleasure, his prUt slick and irllun wet-slithering, and it would be so easy to turn his catch over or spread him wide or rub himself anywhere against him and please him, please them both, but…

_This is simply too much fun!_

"I have you, my dear. I have you." Prey-song came so easily, and his voice was honeyed. "All you have to do is ask and I'll give you whatever you wish… won't you ask me?"

Julian's eyes widened. His mouth opened, but whatever vitriol he'd planned to drip was lost in a sudden quaver as the v'v'er shifted up in pitch; a quaver, then a moan, and then a near-wail, completely undignified. The frown on his face shifted to a half-dazed smile, unguarded, unwilled. It was _glorious._

"Look at you. Look how pretty you are."

Julian didn't seem to hear him. It didn't matter.

"Look at how you're stretched out for me… look how helpless you are… tell me, do you really think you can hold out forever?"

A flutter of eyelids, a flickering frown, but Julian's arms tensed. He could imagine how those long-fingered hands were twisting obscenely together beneath the pillow, fingers intertwining, grasping, palms pressing, _ah!_

"It's a shame to waste such beauty… I think I'd better enjoy you quickly before you break…"

Julian's eyes opened, their expression so strange, hope and anger intermingled—and oh, marvellous, _marvellous_ to see the anger eat the hope alive as Garak settled his bottom gently down against Julian's little nest of fur, slipped a hand along his slick prUt, stroked himself and sighed—

"Garak, you _bastard!"_

Oh. Not so nonverbal as all that, then.

He laughed and lazed, touching himself gently, teasing his irllun as words pelted down over him. Apparently he would do reprehensible things to anyone's prUt both for money and for favours. He and his mother also, it seemed, had a relationship that went somewhat beyond standard filial affection… and oh, dear, he'd certainly never put _that_ in his mouth, even if Julian suddenly seemed to think the smile he was wearing suited the image…

"Listen to you… silly, desperate thing." His hand moved faster, fingers curled loosely, stroking the frilled edge. "Listen to your frustration… poor dear… you know, you're doing it to yourself… all you have to do is move, dear heart, and all of your frustration will end…"

Tensed from head to foot, Julian arched his back and let out a shout of vibrating rage that made Garak raise his brow-ridges in surprised appreciation.

Garak bent over him, smiled at him, pressed a kiss to his furious cheek, whispered into his ear:

"All you have to do is ask, and I'll release you…"

Nothing. A whine through gritted teeth, shading into another open-mouthed moan as the v'v'er pulsed and sang.

"All you have to do is ask…"

Now Julian's eyes were squinted shut, his teeth bared, and he rocked his head back and forth against the pillow, moan escalating, stretching, prey howling for its freedom—and suddenly Garak found that he had no more stomach for patience at all.

The sound Julian made when Garak yanked the fore-v'v'er out of him was half-shock, half-despair, but its pitch angled swiftly into _need_ when Garak hooked his legs under Julian's and rolled them both over, one, two, _three—_

"God, yes, _please—"_

And this worked, oh, yes, it worked easily, as Julian's own weight bore him down against Garak's prUt, so wet it nearly dripped, and he slid into Julian's warmth with a jolt—

_"Oh!"_

He heard his own surprised shout, mingled with Julian's; surprise and delight at the warmth, the vibration of the aft-v'v'er singing through Julian's flesh, rubbing against his irllun which was finally, finally slipped all the way into Julian without force or finesse—Julian was open for him, split wide for him, warm and wet and working—

"I'm going to—God, it's too big—"

"Shh, shh, don't move—just hold still—"

Delightful agony, the pleasure of paralysis—but he could just reach the fore-v'v'er, still slick; he could just slip it between them until it pressed on clitoris and Chuva both, and _oh, oh!_

Julian arched up tall away from him, riding him; he pressed his hands to Julian's chest, squeezed those dark nipples, and Julian caught his hands in his own and squeezed harder, prey begging to be consumed—

_"God,_ Garak!"

"ra'ajevtUrn hussvest'er pled'er—"

"I'm going to—"

"kinhec'I—!"

 

Some little time later, the v'v'er buzzed happily to themselves on the bed. At some point, they'd have to do something about that.

At some point...

"Mmmph," he said, nose buried in Julian's neck.

"I can't… can't move."

He didn't find himself much more motivated.

Julian's breaths were heavy and slow, hot in his hair. For his part, his mouth was pressed against Julian's collarbone, and there was sweat on his lips. He didn't have the energy to do much of anything about it.

"I should get off…"

"Must you?"

But it wasn't as if anything held them together beyond the station's own artificial gravity. His prUt was so far buried inside him it seemed a real possibility he wouldn't see it again for a week. That said, the two of them were sticky beyond belief, slick and slippery and desperately in need of a shower, and that, more than anything else, kept them pressed together.

"All right. I'm going to roll over."

"Mmm…"

"One… two… three…"

Julian was, disappointingly, as good as his word. Every spot of skin that had been pressed against him clamoured at the chill as he pulled away.

"Come back…"

"I'm just here next to you… you come over here…"

It was endless backbreaking labour to turn himself over, to collapse with his head on Julian's belly and his hands on Julian's chin and leg, respectively. Julian's laughter was a tiny groundquake beneath his cheek.

"You can't be comfortable."

"I'm fine…"

A more than decent vantage point, actually. From where his cheek was pressed uselessly against Julian's belly, he could see the thick fur over Julian's nameless little miracle. It was matted with sweat, curling to the point that it looked almost woven…

Oh. Oh, how perfect.

He chuckled to himself, and now it was Julian's turn to wriggle a bit at the tickling.

"What is it?"

"chu'lian-selien-ik ga'I…"

"What?"

"It even rhymes. How lovely."

"What does?"

"I have a name for you."

"You do!" He felt Julian's abdominal muscles tensing as he pushed himself semi-upright.

"I do."

"And?"

"Would you mind turning those v'v'er off?"

Julian pursed his lips, exasperated, and did as asked, one long arm reaching before he focused on Garak again. "All right. Give."

"This," he said, finding it again, fingers toying with the pretty weaving, "is your basket."

"My… what?"

"Your basket, my dear. Your pretty little basket."

"You've lost me."

"No, see? You're just here. Woven prettily, filled with sweets, extremely decorative…"

Laughter again now, and he bounced with it, then rolled as Julian let himself collapse backwards.

"A-tisket, a-tasket…"

"I'm sorry?"

"It's a song. I'll teach you."

"That sounds interesting. Now?"

"Mmm… in the shower. Much better acoustics."

He couldn't argue that. "I think I could use a shower."

"Soon. Not just yet, all right?"

Lazy prey. Lazy predator. "I suppose. Stay just as you are, then."

"Sir, yes, sir."

"Hush."

He felt Julian's laughter beneath his cheek, and smiled to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A selien is, of course, a basket. And Garak's right: it rhymes.


	6. Chapter 6

"I really wish you wouldn’t pout."

"I'm not pouting."

"Are you sure of that? Because you look very pouty to me."

"I assure you, my dear, pouting is the furthest thing from my mind."

"Hmmph. Well, all right, then," said Julian, turning back to the replicator, and Garak pursed his lips and watched him bend and did, indeed, pout. Just a little. It was allowable, certainly.

"Are you quite certain you'll have time for the procedure today? Mondays are always so very busy for you. You're often back late as it is."

"As are you, Mister Garak, and don't worry, I'm certain the team will find time to squeeze me in." Julian's shoulders were shaking. _Very funny, I'm sure._ "Two scones with jam and a half-caf raktajino, extra cream."

Garak pushed his fruit moodily around his plate as Julian sat down across from him. Even the jem'Uv syrup wasn't particularly tempting today. _Not at all what I want._ Such elusive, unlooked-for flavours… _Pouting indeed._

"I thought you'd be pleased. Or at least not this put out." Julian was leaning across the table, smiling. "Won't you be happy to see things back in their standard order?"

"Oh, certainly." Which was true, yes, in that his Julian did have a particularly lovely shape and colour, and even his Human-male genitalia were pleasing in their own funny way. Very pleasing. Entertaining and well-understood. No mystery at all. He ate a berry vindictively.

There was a little pause, and meditative chewing from Julian, then: "Do you like this better?"

Those were dangerous words on a lover's lips. "No, no, that's not it at all." Very important to get that across—and yes, Julian's smile was easy. "I like you however you come."

"No pun intended, I'm sure."

"I'm sorry?"

"Mmph. Standard. Never mind."

"The lowest form of humour, my dear."

Julian waved that away. "I do rather miss being able to stand up to pee."

"An enviable ability, to be sure."

The raktajino was being gently swirled in its mug. Julian looked into the mug as if curious what he'd find there. "Will you miss it?"

Easy now… "Perhaps."

"Mmm." More perusal of the raktajino. "Is it… that I'm a male?" 

Which meant _do you miss females, do you not want me,_ and that was danger once again: _step lightly, Elim!_ "Not at _all._ Everything about you is simply perfect, my dear, and your standard configuration is beyond reproach."

"Honestly?" Julian peered at him over his mug.

"Would you believe me if I said yes?"

That seemed to reassure Julian, amusingly enough. His smile widened to a grin, and he bit into his scone with renewed vigour. Garak watched him eat, smiling; watched him chew a bit more slowly and raise his eyebrows in thought, and then look over at him with a slightly different kind of smile.

"It has been fun, though, hasn't it?"

"Oh, _yes."_ And that he could say honestly, and from the heart.

"Then should we do it again some time?"

_Oh!_

Different tastes, different textures. Delicate folds of skin. A dusky-pink pearl wrapped in its little hood. Strength and smoothness, being gripped tight, or instead pressing kisses to secret places and feeling his lover's thighs press against his ears, his head, and feeling the rain splash through thighs and belly and ripple around his deep-buried fingers…

"Yes. We should."

Julian contemplated his scone. His hand stole across the table; his fingers rested lightly atop Garak's hand. "You know, next time it could be you, if you wanted."

 _Oh_ _…_ an entirely different kind of thought. _I'm not— That might not—_

His mouth ran on its own, buying him time. "You might be disappointed. There's much less difference—"

"I know." Julian's voice was quiet, his eyes hooded. "But it might be interesting… in fact, I daresay I'd find it very interesting…" A flicker of green eyes under long lashes, and Garak blinked.

"Let me think about it."

"Take your time." Julian popped his last bite of scone into his mouth and nipped the crumbs from his fingers. "And don't say you'll do it if you don't want to. I'm obviously more than happy to sacrifice myself for this particular cause."

"Oh, and what a sacrifice it's been for you." Teasing was more familiar ground. Safer. _Let it lie_. "This weekend must have been very nearly unbearable."

"Agonizing, really. I'm extremely sore."

Yes, very familiar ground.

 _"You're_ sore? I may never bloom again, not to mention my poor tongue."

"Your tongue gets more than enough exercise to handle one weekend of extra work."

"Are you saying I talk too much?"

"You're talking rather a lot right now."

Now that was interesting.

"Don't you have to go to the infirmary?"

"I've got twenty minutes yet."

His smile was wide, and when Garak kissed him, his mouth tasted like preserved fruit. _Twenty minutes. I can do a lot in twenty minutes. One last time_ _…_

"Mmm. Yes… very well, then. Come here."

"Really… on the chair?"

"You on the chair. Me… down here."

"Oh… again? Really?"

"Once more. Please?" To remember. To _savour._

"Oh, if you must… oh, _God,_ yes…!"

A world of delights awaited him, nestled beautifully in a tucked-away little basket, and he nibbled and sipped and savoured all there was, surrounded by taste and scent, with Julian's thighs warm in his hands.

_Perhaps again, someday. And_ _… perhaps not._

Either way, just now, the moment was all.


End file.
